Mrs Thornhill の小説・ストーリー

I answered immediately while keeping my other arm firmly around Aria’s waist. “Reed, I can’t talk right now.” “It’s about your wife, sir.” That got my full attention instantly. My eyes narrowed slightly. “I'm listening.” For a second, he said nothing. And somehow, that silence alone already told me this conversation was about to annoy me. “I did my findings about what you asked, and it turns out,” Reed began carefully, “the maids and security team had no idea Mrs. Weston left the penthouse.” I frowned. “And how exactly does that happen?”

I should've confronted them and asserted my position, but I couldn't. I watched as they stepped off stage, my husband introducing her to the guests, my chest tightening. Without confronting them, I slowly turned to leave, my legs trembling beneath me. But as I reached for the exit door, a firm hand grasped my arm, roughly spinning me around. I turned and met Avery Gilbert's gaze. She flashed me a troubling smile, locking eyes with me. "The party's just started, where are you off to, Mrs. Elliot... Oops, my bad. I meant, Ms. Flair," she said mockingly.

“Welcome to the Fieldston Women’s Circle, Kimberly. I hope you do enjoy yourself. And I certainly hope today is the first of many visits for you.” She smiled again before another member gently pulled her away. Vivienne leaned closer. “See? That wasn’t so bad, was it? I told you, we don’t bite here.” I laughed. The next introduction came almost immediately as we proceeded in—a petite brunette named Eleanor Whitmore, whose husband, I was told by Vivienne, owned one of the city’s largest architectural firms. She greeted me with genuine warmth. Then afterwards came Patricia Monroe, an accomplished plastic surgeon with an easy smile and infectious laugh.

"Oh, my God, I always thought Mr. Miller was all tough and intimidating, but he's shockingly gentle." "Yeah, but he seemed a bit cold to his fiancee just now. At times, I almost thought Ms. Thorne was the one he really cared about." "That makes sense. Ms. Thorne does come from a prominent family. I heard the fiancee today is just the daughter of one of the Thorne family's household staff." "Are you serious? She's barely of any standing and still throws a fit, and Mr. Miller doesn't even bat an eye? He's way too patient."

"They know me better than that. I've spent ten years supporting this town." "They know Elias Thorne," Mrs. Henderson countered, finally meeting her eyes. "They see the diamond, the limo, and the Thorne Global sign going up on the Inn. They see a small-town girl who got rich and is now complicit in the ruin of the town's history." The climax of the tension came when Mark, Leo's "Uncle Mark" (a local teacher and close family friend who had often been a surrogate male figure), walked into the nursery. His expression was a deep mixture of hurt and accusation.

Her mother’s brows furrowed. “Who?” Chloe took a breath,steadying herself. “That’s Mr. Thorne.” There was absolute silence. Her mother blinked repeatedly,like her brain needed time to process what she had just heard. “…what?” Elgin’s expression hardened instantly. Recognition clicked fully now. “Elias Thorne,” he repeated under his breath. “Yeah… Elias Thorne.” Chloe said Her mom’s eyes widened. “Thorne? As in the billionaire Thorne? The one who owns half the city?”

He pinched his tired eyebrows and asked in a low voice, "Apart from Oliver's special situation these days, is there anything else going on at home?" Diana hesitated for a while, but still said: "A woman came to the house ten days ago to make trouble." James Smith didn't speak. Diana pondered: "That woman kept calling your name, saying that Rachel West was dying, and that you should hurry and save her."

The butler became visibly excited and said, "She was a lunatic and has already been sent to a mental hospital." "The Miller family's mental hospital?" "Yes." Thorne sneered, "The Miller family really thought of themselves as onions." The old butler frowned and looked displeased. "The young master rarely comes back, does he not plan to visit Lady Miller?" Thorne said, "Hmph. You simply couldn't handle me, so you passed me on to Lady Miller. Fine, let's just meet then." The old butler obediently pushed the wheelchair for Thorne this time. Thorne took a stroll around the fire scene, with no actions except for reaching out to touch the walls. The intelligent system on the armrest of his wheelcha